


rising across the horizon in our minds

by plinys



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 5 Times, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 19:32:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11858193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: Of all the things he’s expecting, Caitlin standing in his apartment two nights later is not one of them.





	rising across the horizon in our minds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themidsummersoldier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themidsummersoldier/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRENNA! I hope you enjoy this fic, and that you have an amazing birthday! You deserve the world, but all I can give you is fic, so I hope it makes your day a little better!

1

It’s somewhere in the middle of fighting the latest metahuman threat, watching Wally’s back as it speeds on by, and being hit by another unexpected and poorly timed transuniverse vibe, that he sees her.

There just for a second.

Not part of his vibe like he had originally assumed the image of her way, but part of the crowd, standing there off to the side, among the gathered masses of civilians that had been in the park and were now more consumed with catching a meta fight on their cell phones rather than running to safety.

There between two teenagers with iPhones and an old man who might have just decided that this was his time, she stands. Hair white, fist clenched tightly against the bag at her side, light blue summer dress, like she might have been ordinary Caitlin had he not known any better.

The thing is, he does know better. 

He knows who she is, what she is.

He knows that she could be helping them. 

He knows that she won’t.

She left the team, made her decision, and he couldn’t stop her then. He certainly can’t stop her now. 

He considers yelling it anyways, calling out for her to help them, because one extra set of hands would really make the difference here. Considers for a long moment. 

Long enough for their eyes to meet. Hers an icey blue as they stare into his, across the crowds, across the fighting, across everything else.

He feels for a second like he’s being hit with another Vibe, his train of thought disappearing in an instant where all he can focus on his her. He wonders if his expression shows the concern in his heart. If she can understand that he just wants to know that she’s okay. 

That there’s still a part inside of her that is the Caitlin Snow he’s called his best friend for years.

He doesn’t get a chance to ask, because there’s a burst of something hot, and he goes flying backwards. His momentary distraction having given the hostile metahuman an opening. 

He turns back to the fight, telling himself that Caitlin will have to wait. 

Hoping that she’ll still be among the crowd when they’re finished.

Knowing better than to hope. 

  
  


2

Of all the things he’s expecting, Caitlin standing in his apartment two nights later is not one of them.

“You keep the key in the same place,” she says like that explains everything, like that should be enough of an answer. 

And for some reason it feels like it is. 

He remembers when they were both still new at Star Labs, when she’s been having an argument with Ronnie and asked if she could crash at his place for the night. The two of them had shared the bottle of tequila in his fridge and watched Star Trek until they felt like nothing else mattered anymore. 

He’d do that again, if it would make any difference. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, even though he’s not sure what he’s apologizing for. 

For wanting her help the other day?

For spending weeks looking for her after she left?

For not helping her find a way to control her powers sooner?

For - 

“Can I stay the night?”

“Yes,” he says, quickly. Too quickly.

Enough that he would be embarrassed were it not for the look on her face. The smallest hint of a smile. A familiar smile, though the hair and eyes are different, he knows that face. Knows the way it moves, soft and uncertain in her lowest of moments.

This must be one of them. 

“I can order us some take out, or drinks - I think I’ve got something to drink in the fridge and we can-”

“I just need somewhere to sleep,” she cuts him off. 

He tries not to feel the disappointment that they can’t go back to the way things used to be. 

That they can’t ignore the fallout months ago.

That they can’t ignore the part of them that has changed since becoming part of Team Flash. 

That they can’t ignore the fact that they are Vibe and Killer Frost, rather than just Cisco and Caitlin. 

“Take my bed,” he offers. If nothing else. Because it’s better than asking when the last time she slept on a real bed was and asking where she’s been all the time. “I’ll take the couch.”

“There’s room for both,” she points out. 

And yeah, there is.

This wouldn’t be the first time they’ve shared a bed. 

Platonically always, opposite sides of the massive bed Cisco splurged on the second he got a paycheck large enough to validate the expense of a California King. A pillow wedged between them as a half joke while he had insisted,  _ no funny business _ , just to earn a laugh out of her. 

This time it’s different, there’s no laughing. No jokes as they slip into the bed on opposite sides of each other. 

Her facing the wall. 

Him, unable to do anything but face her, reassure himself that she is here and that this is real. 

Even if just for a moment.

He knows, without a doubt that she will be gone in the morning, but until then, he listens to the sound of her breathing even out as she falls asleep. 

  
  


3

The next time she shows up in his apartment, she’s bleeding. The navy tank top she wears under her leather jacket soaked through, with dark patches that can only mean blood underneath. 

He does not stare when she shrugs her jacket off and then pulls the tank over her head. 

Focuses on the wound on her side, nasty and cold to the touch, when he moves to examine it. 

“I tried to stop the bleeding,” she says, like she’s suddenly not a trained medical professional. 

He wants to ask.

Why couldn’t she do this herself?

Why come here?

What happened?

He does not ask, instead he helps her sit up on his bathroom counter as he pulls a first aid kit out from one of the drawers setting about to patch her up with familiar precision. He’s patched himself up a lot recently, put himself back together because there was no one on the team with steady hands and the practical knowledge of how best to do this.

Not anymore. 

The words slip out without him meaning them too, “This would be easier in the lab,” and they both look away at the same time. 

His gaze falling to the floor the bathroom, where little flecks of her blood mar the tile. 

“You know I can’t do that,” she says, after a moment. 

And he nods.

Once and then once more. 

“Yeah, alright.”

  
  


4

She kisses him. 

It’s a surprise.

There in his kitchen, her visits not so often that he can’t count them on his fingers, but enough that he’s starting to feel like himself again around her. Like he understand where he stands, where they stand.

Maybe not Team Flash anymore, but still a team, still  _ Caitlin  _ and  _ Cisco _ . 

Until, she kisses him, and that changes things. 

It’s not like he’s never thought about kissing Caitlin before. It’s not like he never imagined it while working in the lab together, imagined the way she smiled at him could mean something. 

Because he has.

Of course he has.

One doesn’t work alongside someone as beautiful and incredible as Caitlin for years and not imagine it. 

It’s just he never imagined it like this.

Imagined how her lips would feel cool when she kissed him, her hands like ice as they reach down to tugs his shirt off over his head, her body pressing him back up against the counter without any hesitation.

But he doesn’t stop her.

He’s wanted this. He wants this. 

Instead he just uses a little bit of his powers, to push back, to change their positions, and to take control of the kiss. When she makes a noise against his lips, pleasant surprise, he knows that it was the right thing to do. 

He tries to put everything he feels into that kiss.

All the words he couldn’t say. 

Like  _ I miss you _ .

Like  _ please stay _ .

Like  _ you’ll always be welcome here _ .

He wonders if she can understand those thoughts in his head, read them in the movements of his lips, the the movements of his hips, in the way his voice shakes as he says her name.

She must, because there in the aftermath, tugging pants back on, still in his kitchen, she says, “Soon.” 

And it’s enough.

She stays the night. 

She is still there in the morning when he makes coffee and waffles. 

She doesn’t come back to the team, but she doesn’t leave. 

She kisses him softly goodbye, and it feels like enough.

  
  


5

He sees her in the flickers and vibes that over take him more often than not. Ignoring the concerned glances from the rest of the team, and the way Iris seems to be trying very hard not to ask if he’s seen Barry. 

What can he say?

That the reason he gasps out in the middle of the lab isn’t because he’s located Barry in the speed force, but because he’s seen Caitlin, laying on his couch in one of his t-shirts flicking through the channels while a box of takeout rests between them.

The rest of the team wouldn’t understand that she’s not ready for the rest of the team.

So instead he makes his excuses, feigns a headache and feels bad when he sees concern on their faces. Heads to the take out place, the one he knows she likes, the one he had seen in his Vibe. Ordering all of her favorite things.

He doesn’t know for sure that she will be there.

This could have been any other night. 

Could be weeks from now, but he has a hunch as he sits on the bus with a paper bag full of takeout.

A hunch that is proven right when he opens his door and finds her there, trying to make it look casual, like she wasn’t waiting for him. He feels the same way, holding that bag in his arms, like he didn’t order twice the food in hopes that she would be here.

They don’t mention it.

Don’t mention their desperate need to be near each other.

Instead he sets out the food on his coffee table, while Caitlin asks with a hint of mirth in her voice, “DS9 or Voyager?”

“Original Series or I kick you off my couch,” he tells, “The fact that you’d even think to suggest Voyager-”

“Don’t you always say spin offs are better,” she asks, and it’s a joke. 

Caitlin is joking with him. Sputtering into a laugh when he shoots her a glare, already turning on  _ Mirror Mirror _ . A quality choice, if he did say so himself. Though the irony strikes him for a moment. Another world where everyone was evil. They were supervillains together on Earth 2, dead there now. 

Whereas here they were…

He wasn’t sure. 

“Cisco,” she says, cutting across his thoughts, drawing him away from the show in front of them, and back to her.  Curled up on the edge of his couch, a carton of food in her lap. “Why are you still so good to me?”

The answer is there, on the edge of his lips, it would be so easy to say it. To say:  _ Because I love you _ . 

But it’s too soon for that. 

Instead he says, “Because I believe in you,” and hopes she can read what’s he isn’t able to say just yet.

  
  


\+ 1

When it happens, it’s without warning.

An alert that someone unauthorized is in the lab. An alarm purposely tripped to alert them of her presence. The team rushing into positions, ready to deal with a hostile metahuman, but he doesn’t move.

Because he knows.

He remembers her saying  _ Soon _ , remembers the hope that he had seen in her eyes just for a brief moment. 

She says, “Cisco said I could come back, if I wanted.”

The rest of the team is looking at him, a mix of relief and suspicion and questions that he knows he’s going to have to answer later.

“Yes, I did.” 

A look that only increases when he speaks.

But none of that matters because for a second his heart forgets how to beat, struck with the slight of her, smiling at him like he’s all that matters to her, standing back in the labs where she’s always belonged.

The lab that had been  _ theirs  _ before it became anybody else’s. 

“Welcome home.” 


End file.
